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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242287">let's go dancing in the dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusohryan/pseuds/siriusohryan'>siriusohryan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Alternate Universe- Sugar Baby, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Post-Timeskip, Self-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:28:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29242287</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusohryan/pseuds/siriusohryan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Osamu franchises his Onigiri Miya restaurants at the age of 24, he comes into a large sum of money- larger than he could possibly spend. He was a simple man with simple tastes after all. But when you, his former high school manager that he’s had a crush on forever admits that she needs money, Osamu proposes a solution you both end up gaining from. You could be his sugar baby.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Miya Osamu is twenty-four years old, and was once owner of the Onigiri Miya restaurant chain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though the meeting to sell his empire was successful, Osamu walks out feeling a little empty. He’s just sold away his empire of ten Onigiri Miya outlets, which he poured his blood and sweat and tears into, thankfully keeping a decent share of the new franchise, but detached all the same. Managing ten outlets was a lot of work, and Osamu was left with little time to do anything else, even too busy to head home during the holiday period. He missed having time to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hence, when an investor landed on his doorstep, he signed his empire away without much fanfare. Only after the whole exercise was over did Osamu feel empty. Like he cut out a chunk of his soul and sold it to a millionaire, which in hindsight he did. Pouring all his effort straight out of high school in working towards achieving his dream of opening an onigiri restaurant and achieving success he couldn’t even fathom were never in his contemplation maybe even 10 years ago, but it’s now a milestone that he’s checked and completed. He even opened nine other outlets across the region, but they’re all little more than history now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The street feels a little foreign now that it doesn’t house his flagship Onigiri Miya location, that it’s no longer the place he has worked in and had continued to work in for the past five years since high school. Still, he whistles a tune as he heads to his car, wondering what he’ll do now that he doesn’t have a job. Maybe muck around at home for a bit? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shrill ring of his phone interrupts his thoughts. He fishes it out from his pocket, blinking in surprise when he reads the caller ID. It’s you, a classmate from high school, and the manager of the volleyball club. Thankfully, you’ve managed to keep in touch, so the both of you remain good friends to this day. Though, your current friendly relationship leaves Osamu wanting a lot more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu had been crushing on you since your first year in high school, an admiration that only grew and grew as you blossomed into the person that you are now. He’s remained a good friend throughout, but still, he holds on to the hope in his heart that you might have room in there for him. Nonetheless, he drifts along, happy to remain by your side however you might have him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You’ve always been a headstrong and powerful individual, a force to be reckoned with. Quite literally, in fact, physically knocking some sense into him and his brother when they stayed too late for practise or whacked their heads with your clipboard when they fought. Osamu has always quietly admired you, wondering if he would ever grow to have such a fiery spirit, not unlike his brother. Soon that wonder bloomed into adoration, and then eventually a full-blown crush, where he spent maths class staring at the back of your head and wondering if you’d let him hold your hand on the way home (you lived in the same vicinity as the twins, just two stations away). </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s always treasured whatever time he can spend with you. As a tired university student and now tired employee, you’d pop over to Onigiri Miya after hours for some free dinner and his company. Osamu always hoped that the dim lights would hide the blush on his face whenever you pressed close to him or laid your hand over his. He made your favourites, gladly acting as your listening ear while you vented about whatever bothered you, whatever was eating at you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eager to tell you the good news about his newfound fortune, he picks up your call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” he greets warmly into the receiver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hears a sniffle. Instantly, he frowns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘Samu,” you gasp, “I lost my job. I can’t make my rent and I can’t ask my parents either- they’re both retired and they’ve already helped with a significant portion of my tuition loans. Samu, I don’t know what to do, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are ya?” He asks, climbing into his car, ready to go to you. He’ll speed if he has to. Anything to get to you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Outside my uh, old workplace,” you sob, sinking into a pillar behind you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m comin’,” he says, switching his ignition on and driving over to you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gets to you in record time, finding you perched against the pillar of your publishing company, crying into your hands. Pulling up in front of you, he unlocks the car door so you can climb inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for coming to get me,” you give him a watery smile, clutching your arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu leans over to pull you into his arms as best as he can in his car. Stroking your back, he murmurs something soothing into your hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can I do for ya?” He asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” you blink, “Nothing. I just needed to talk to someone- I don’t want to burden my parents with anything, and you’re one of my closest friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re down on rent this month?” He asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod, “Yeah, and I have so many other expenses, really, this is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing I needed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happens if ya don’t pay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I get kicked out, ‘Samu,” you whisper, the thought bringing a fresh set of tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, yer need money n’ a place to stay.” Osamu summarises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod, sobbing into your hands once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have an idea,” he mentions. “I just sold off my Onigiri Miya restaurants, n’I have a shit ton of money I’m not gonna spend.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya could move in with me? I’d cover most of yer expenses for the time being, til ya get back on yer feet again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Samu,” you shake your head, “I could never ask you to do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer a friend,” he assures you, covering your hand with his larger one, “I’m happy to do this for ya. I have a huge apartment, which is so lonely, n’ like too much money sittin’ in my bank. I’d rather ya get t’use some of it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Samu,” you gasp, now crying tears of relief. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chin up, Y/N,” he says, “I’ll take care of ya.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="post">
  <p></p>
  <div class="txt">
    <p></p>
    <div class="caption">
      <p></p>
      <blockquote class="cap">
        <p>When you move in with him, everything about you screams timid, which is a far cry to how you’re normally around him. Osamu knows that you feel a little embarrassed that he’s seeing you at your lowest, but he doesn’t mind. He’s happy to be there for you when you need him. Still, you keep looking back at him for silent permission even as you do things like hang your mug on his mug tree or set your shoes next to his on his shoe rack. <b><br/></b></p>
        <p>He remembers spraining his wrist in high school and how you berated him for fifteen minutes while also applying the gentlest touch as you patched him up. Osamu wonders where the fire had gone, why there was only your softness in its wake? Or rather, this wasn’t even softness. You were timid, meek, shrunken in on yourself. </p>
        <p>“Hey,” he says, laying a hand on your shoulder, “Ya don’t need to worry. I’m happy to have ya here.” </p>
        <p>You relax a little after that, giving him a relieved smile and going about to unpack the rest of your stuff. You don’t have much with you, mostly just clothes, toiletries and some other knick-knacks. Like a breeze through his house, you set your things alongside his, making it look like you really live there. He blinks and he notices his place is twice as full, walking around as he observes the new changes. </p>
        <p>Osamu’s heart squeezes a little when he sees your things next to his on his bathroom counter, your toothbrush next to his in a little mug. He’s sort of hovered around you while you unpacked, trying to get you to accept his help, though you staunchly refused each time. Once, even going so far as to elbow him out of the closet while you put your coat in. He’d been so close to you then, he could see the individual strands of your eyelashes. </p>
        <p>You’d wagged a hanger at him and told him to leave you be, to just watch TV or something and not to bother himself with your unpacking. He can’t help but smile; he feels seventeen again and like he’s overstayed at practice while you were locking up. Your hands on his back as you pushed him out the gym back then and your cross expression now are one in the same.</p>
        <p>But he can’t help it, he wants to help you move in. His traitorous mind encourages him to imagine you’re moving in with him for some reason other than the fact that you really just don’t have a place to stay. He wants to invite you and help you weave into his life, into his heart. </p>
        <p>Osamu begins cooking dinner, wondering what you’d like to have. He goes off in search of you, only to find you curled up in your old high school t-shirt, asleep on your new bed. Osamu tucks the blankets around you, with a soft smile as he watches you rest after your draining day. His hands twitch with the suppressed urge to smooth your messy hair away but he decides against that. He wanted to take care of you but he didn’t want to scare you off. </p>
        <p>When dinner is ready, he goes to get you only to see you emerge from the bedroom, hair mussed and eyes sleepy as you follow your nose to find the source of the amazing smell. Osamu’s heart pangs with longing; he never thought when he was seventeen, that he’d have you living with him, sharing a life with him- alright, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. But still, you were here, living with him, sharing his living space and allowing him to care for you. It was still much further than he ever expected himself to ever get with you, his hopeless, unrequited crush on you. </p>
        <p>It does terrible things to his heart when you walk towards him, a soft and relieved expression on your face, unguarded as you indulge in his care after all the caring and hovering you used to do as the manager of their high school club. </p>
        <p>“Here,” he says gently, pulling out a chair for you to get into. You take the seat, looking up at him in puzzlement. </p>
        <p>While you had always known Osamu was a little softer than his brother, he still had a certain brashness about him. He’d never been able to shed that, having pursued a sport for a huge portion of his life, and naturally being tall and muscular, he was used to throwing his strength around. So to see him gently offering you a place to sit and delicately serving you a portion of dinner- it surprised you a little. Nonetheless, you take it in your stride, appreciating all that Osamu is doing for you. </p>
        <hr/>
        <p>You’re on edge the entire time. Osamu notices this a couple of weeks after you’ve moved in, wondering why you’re so uneasy around him. Weren’t you his headstrong manager-turned-adult who always knew what to do and what to say in every situation? He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable but he worries. </p>
        <p>He asks you about it, one night after dinner. You had insisted on cooking and cleaning after the first night, in between all your job hunting and running your errands and Osamu was genuinely afraid you were going to run yourself haggard. He’s sneakily displaced you from the kitchen, always under the guise of wanting to try a new recipe for the night or claiming he missed cooking. But really, he wanted to take care of you. Make sure you are resting well and eating enough despite the difficult time in your life. </p>
        <p>“Samu,” you sigh, not meeting his eyes, “You know me. You know how much I dislike owing people and feeling like a burden to them, and-”</p>
        <p>He cuts you off. “No, ya don’t owe me a thing, and yer not a burden. I invited ya here because I want to take care of ya, to provide for ya until yer get back on yer feet.” </p>
        <p>“I know that, Samu,” you lean back against the sofa, “I know that and still I don’t feel comfortable here. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, truly I do, but what have I done to deserve this?” </p>
        <p>“Why do ya feel like that?” Osamu asks, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.</p>
        <p>“It’s just that,” you sigh, “You’ve basically handed me a better life on a plate. And I don’t know how to repay you.”</p>
        <p>Osamu wants to say that you don’t need to repay him, that he’s doing this out of the kindness of his heart. And he knows that you’ve offered him more than he could ever dream of- living with him, spending time with him, it makes his heart full. He doesn’t need to mention how seeing you preparing coffee for him in the morning gets his heart in overdrive, how every brush of your bare skin against his feels like electricity. </p>
        <p>Maybe he yearns too strongly, that every bit of affection, every brush of domesticity he gets, it feels like a drink of water on a hot day, refreshing, soothing, comforting. Sharing a home and a life with someone he loves the way he loves you, with someone he trusts and gets along with the way he does with you is priceless. But he wants to preserve it. </p>
        <p>And he feels so dirty for saying this, “Ya could spend time with me.” </p>
        <p>You blink at him. “What?”</p>
        <p>“In exchange for me takin’ care of ya, I’d appreciate yer spendin’ more time with me. We hardly managed to do that once we left school.” </p>
        <p>“So like…” You trail off, unsure, “Like a companion?”</p>
        <p>Osamu nods. Guilt settles into his stomach like a stone weight. </p>
        <p>“You’re asking me to be your sugar baby?” You ask again, like you’re not sure that you just heard correctly.</p>
        <p>Suddenly hot under the collar, Osamu scratches his cheek. “Would yer like to?”</p>
        <p>“I suppose I could try?” You say, giving him a semi-reassuring smile. “I mean I already love to spend time with you, Samu.” </p>
        <p>“It feels really dirty when ya say it like that, Y/N,” he rubs the back of his neck, flushing red, “But I love t-to spend time with ya too. Don’t wanna be a creep is all, so if yer keen on it, then me too.” </p>
        <p>“I never thought I’d be the sugar baby to one of my High School friends, let alone you,” you laugh, bumping his shoulder with yours. “Anything you want me to do?”</p>
        <p>“No!” He yells, holding his hands up, “Just sittin’ here with me is nice.” </p>
        <p>“Osamu,” you glance at him from the corner of your eye, “Are you sure you want this?”</p>
        <p>“Yes,” he nods, “I’m always happy to spend time with ya. And I told yer many times over that carin’ for ya is somethin’ I want to do. If this is what it takes for ya to accept my help, then I’m okay with it.” </p>
        <p>“Um,” you say, trying to punctuate the awkward silence that fell over the two of you, “I want you to know I’m so appreciative of everything you’re doing, Osamu.”</p>
        <p>“Y/N,” he says, “We’re friends from high school. We’ve been through so much together, I don’t want yer to ever been in a tough spot if I can help it.” </p>
        <p>He takes your hand, pulling you into a hug. It’s a bit awkward since you’re both sitting on his sofa, but Osamu’s warm presence makes up for it, swallowing you into his embrace. You feel so secure in his hold, his strong forearms caging you to him.</p>
        <p>Osamu, though, is counting on his heart to not beat itself out of his chest. His cheeks burn something awful so he hides his face in your hair, taking care to make it seem like he sort of fell face first into your hair (absurd, he knows). It feels nice having you this close, allowing himself to surrender and fall deeper. </p>
        <p> </p>
      </blockquote>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im forgetou on tumblr!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Things more or less simmer down after he puts a name to the arrangement hanging over your heads. Osamu never wants to take advantage of you, so he keeps everything really tame, and requests that you have breakfast with him and dinner with him. He isn’t sure about the protocol in a sugar baby arrangement, but he knows you’d feel better if he actually asks something of you. He also knows you’ve found a part-time job working at a cafe for now, so he makes sure to prepare a proper breakfast before you go and a proper dinner when you return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is also the fact that he has no idea how to be a sugar daddy, so to speak, because his palms get sweaty at the mere thought of you two doing anything beyond the platonic realm. There were a couple of times when you leaned against his shoulder or patted his cheek which made his mind blank out for a little. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of you sit and chat like you’re seventeen years old and sharing a team dinner at summer training camp, stealing a bite of his curry to rile him up but never succeeding because you were the one person he always wanted to share with- his food, his money, his life, his love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You tell him about your day, whining about a customer you don’t like or mentioning that you saw a really cute baby in the cafe today. The job doesn’t even call you in everyday, but he can see that there is some light returning to your eyes as you regain a sense of financial independence. Beyond your outstanding payments, you don’t let him cover a cent. As much as he wants to cover your expenses, you try your best to handle them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A looming student loan hangs over your head. He resolves to pay it, telling you quietly after dinner that he’d either pay for it himself or transfer the money to you. You cry into your hands after that, torn between the guilt at accepting his money and relief at not having to worry about the massive amount of debt you had. He pulls you into his arms, allowing you to cry and snot all over his shoulder, stroking your hair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your anguish breaks his heart because he wants so desperately to ease the burden in your heart. He tries, through what cooks for you, through payments he picks up for you, through time he spends with you, hoping you’d feel his love. There was only so much he could do without verbalising how he felt. And he didn’t want to, not with how overwhelmed you’ve been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, the sort of domesticity that has worked its way into your dynamic hurts in the way that’s good. So bone deep and pleasant, with the lingering feeling that he’s going to get left behind one day when you move on from this part of your life. There is no greater intimacy than sharing breakfast, he thinks, as you speak to him with sleepy eyes, unguarded and unfiltered, as your brain slowly reawakens and adjusts once more to the world around you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother teases him about the arrangement, though he may not know all the finer details- well, Atsumu does not know </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> detail, which is that Osamu is essentially paying you for your company- saying that he has the perfect opportunity to make his feelings known but will probably bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood if that’s what it takes to keep himself from telling you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu thinks he’s doing you a favour, because really who wanted to deal with a years’ long unrequited crush when they were still trying to get back on their feet? He had a hard enough time convincing you he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart and not because he wanted you to owe him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cared about you, so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It started when you sat with him in his first year of high school, telling him about your dreams to be a journalist and work in the city and write and write and write. And he asks when you decided on your dream, because he was yet to find his.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet yours isn’t volleyball,” you commented. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” He asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” you look back at his brother with a sly smile, “You’re not as volleyball-crazy as he is. I know your heart lies elsewhere, I hope you can find it. I’m sure that when you put your heart into something, ‘Samu, it’ll be brilliant.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart was ready to fall into your hands after that. He went home, cooked dinner for himself and his brother, and thought of you the entire time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I found my dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he texted you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s cooking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s great! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You texted back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t wait to try what you make</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He came to school the next day with onigiri he made in the morning, placing it on your desk with a nervous smile. You ate it in front of him, laughing with mirth when he asked you if you liked it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” you replied, “You’re so talented, Osamu. I can’t wait to eat what you make next!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cheery expression on your face and the rice grain stuck to the corner of your lips were so endearing and he felt so fuzzy all over when your hands passed him back his empty lunchbox. Ears burning, he accepts the empty lunchbox and tucks it into his bag. His heart belonged to you after that brief moment, where you accepted him and ignited his passion; he would do anything to be able to have the same effect on you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As with most high school crushes, he was content to coast along, mistaking his feelings for platonic feelings at first. There were moments he could spend time alone with you, like perhaps after practice or when you offered to study with him in the school library. His brother would tag along, but Atsumu was more perceptive than he let along because he made himself scarce most of the time when Osamu mentioned he was spending time with you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He never did anything about his feelings, of course, because he was shy. Shy and unsure; sure he was popular, he had friends, but presenting yourself to such a headstrong individual as yourself was a battle he was not ready for. You were his friend, a good one, throughout, and he would never do anything to jeopardise his friendship. So he kept his feelings tucked away in his heart and stayed by your side through all your ups and downs, including a terrible crush on your classmate and a hellish first year in University. And an ex-boyfriend who left you behind for another country. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Life works in a linear progression; you worked hard to achieve your goals, and he knew that throwing himself into the mix as anything other than the supportive character that he was was really just going to add a burden you didn't need. He would not be the deadweight that pulled you off your charted course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is why the uncharted waters of your current relationship make him uneasy. It makes him uncomfortable to call you his sugar baby, because that's so demeaning and you're so much more than that. Your company is both the wind beneath his wings and his fire on a cold day, invigorating and comforting all the same. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, equally aware of the awkward spot you're stuck in where you need his help and his making you uncomfortable could only turn the situation ugly and upset you when that's not what he wanted to do at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hence, like with most things in life, Osamu bides his time. First, it was high school and then college commitments that kept him away; now it's the precarious situation your relationship is in. A snide part of him that sounds like his brother's voice tells him that it's just him being a coward about his feelings and being unwilling to make a commitment in the right direction to the girl he's loved since forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But time, for it exists in abundance, will be there for him when you cross this hurdle and you're ready to accept his feelings. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>For now, life is simple. He preps your breakfast and dinner, you go to work. He entertains queries from the investors about the restaurant franchise, he tries out recipes he's always wanted to try without the time to do so. He checks his phone for any updates from you; he calls his parents (and then yours because they did have a soft spot for him), he goes about his day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If life is already like this with you as his friend, he sees little reason to tip the scales and possibly upset this balance. He doesn't want to endanger what good he has now; this sweet slice of heaven in his own flat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You come home to him, have dinner with him, chin in your palm as you gaze at him with such affection that it simmers below his skin; he feels desperate to reach out and touch. Your face is like a mirage, he knows that if he gets too close, reality will manifest and things might spectacularly blow up in his face. Besides you've never indicated any intention of being with him romantically; you probably saw him as a friend from high school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brain tries to snip at the hopeful tendrils curling around his heart for the nth time in your relationship. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the weekend rolls around and you invite him to go out for dinner, eager to treat him with your pay-check, he sighs and agrees. He wants you to rest, not spend your day off going out for a dinner on the town, but he'll accept it because it's what makes you happy. Besides, the whole 'sugar baby' concept is not lost on him- he knows that spending time with him is a big part of your whole arrangement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he indulges you. He dresses up nicely, wears a shirt you told him you liked and he styles his hair instead of letting it fall in its usual mop. The dinner itself isn't the problem. Osamu spends the better part of the evening sitting across from you, staring into your eyes as you recount some of your old high school experiences. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After dinner, when you're paying up at the till, he waits outside rather impatiently. You'd been a little distracted towards the end of dinner and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Your ex had walked into the restaurant some way through your dinner and your eyes kept travelling over to him. Osamu knew that there was nothing he had to be jealous about, after all, he only specified that he wanted to spend time with you and be in your company; not that he would have any claim to your romantic feelings (or lack thereof). Still, it was entirely off-putting to have his bubble burst so suddenly, to come crashing down to earth with the reminder that you were doing this for the money. That you didn't want to spend this much time with him if it weren't for your situation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He's a little crabby, as would anyone who had their reality shift back into perspective. Then, he notices your ex walk you out of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug and giving your forehead a soft kiss before he walks off in the other direction.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yer done?" He asks, arms folded across his taut chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yup," you comment, skirting around his tense tone, "Let's go."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You talk about your ex on the drive home, mentioning how he got promoted in his company, which brought him back to Japan after a two year stint overseas- which is why you broke up in the first place. He knew there were no hard feelings- an amicable breakup- but still he wonders why you keep bringing your ex up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Sometimes," you say, "I wonder what could have been, you know? And now he's successful and with a stable job- I wonder where I would be if I was still with him?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"There's no point thinkin' about that," Osamu replies, keeping his eyes on the road so he doesn't have to watch what might be your wistful expression for someone else, "Because ya aren't with 'im anymore."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know that," you frown, "I was just thinking. Why are you in such a foul mood?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Well," Osamu says, "Aren't ya supposed t'be my sugar baby? Yer thinkin' about another man and I don't like that."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What are you talking about?" Your voice rises a few octaves, "I agreed to spend time with you, you know like always. Because we're friends?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," he nods, "But I'd think I'd at least be a little bit special. Or that you wouldn't stare at yer ex the entire time at dinner!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Oh come on," you roll your eyes, "I wasn't staring at him the entire time."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya were,” he insists, gripping his steering while until his knuckles went white, “I just don’t think that’s fair given our current arrangement.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Osamu,” your voice is like steel, “I agreed to spend time with you in exchange for you helping me out. Not for you to have a monopoly on my feelings.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well maybe time isn’t enough for me! Maybe I want yer to only be with me!” He shouts, staring at your widening eyes in the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re here,” you say instead, as the parking entrance for his apartment building appears within your view. The tension is so thick, he could cut it with a knife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He scrubs a hand down his face, parking his car silently as an uncomfortable silence permeates the air between the two of you. Osamu chances a glance at your face, a sinking heart when he sees the frown in between your eyes. He sighs, turning the ignition off and climbing out of the car. You march ahead of him, keeping a respectable distance as you head back to his place. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>tumblr plug -&gt; @forgetou</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Silence engulfs the two of you the moment you walk out of his car. It’s thick and suffocating, keeping him a distance away from you as you march ahead. Osamu doesn’t dare say anything because he’s actually upset. Upset and frustrated with how the night developed. He also doesn’t trust himself enough not to say anything which would upset you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You actually throw the door to his apartment open. After he enters behind you, the door to his apartment slams shut behind him. Osamu hasn’t said a word to you the entire time you walked up the stairs to his place. Even unlocking the door to his flat was a moment fraught with tension, like the still air before the spark is lit- you both knew something explosive was coming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu feels like a taut spring, ready to snap. He never meant to blow up at you like that, but the jealousy was crawling up his throat, clawing at his skin until he threw it at you. A jumbled mess of feelings, of resentment that he didn’t do anything sooner, of longing for your affection, of envy that your ex was able to elicit such a reaction from you, hurt that after all this time, you still didn’t think of him like that. You agreed to spend more time with him, he was taking care of you- what more did he need to do? He worried about how it was going to affect your relationship, would his overgrown and festered mess of feelings push you away?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what the hell was that?” You’re the first to break the impasse, referring to his uncharacteristic, and frankly unreasonable, bout of possessiveness in the car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The abrupt change in his attitude puzzled you because Osamu normally never reacted to your relationships like that. You wonder if it’s got to do with the fact that he’s entangled you both into a sugar baby arrangement. Maybe he was unhappy that you were paying attention to someone else? Still, all you did was shoot a couple of glances at you ex and mention him once or twice in the car. Osamu had hardly any reason to be upset, let alone that upset. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he scratches his cheek, clearly uncomfortable, offering a half-hearted explanation, “Ya agreed to spend time with me exclusively. As my companion.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As your companion?” You hiss, “I agreed because I felt so guilty taking so much money from a friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, yer lucky. All I asked was for ya to spend time with me exclusively, but I don’t even know if yer capable of that.” He grumbles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean you want me to spend time with you exclusively? And what do you mean I’m not capable of that? You’re my friend, Osamu, not my keeper. You don’t have a monopoly on my time, on my feelings, on anything.” You continue, arms folded across your chest as you launch words at him like arrows, a rain of arrows on him as you unleash your tirade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not askin’ to be yer keeper!” He bellows, “I’ve loved ya since high school and maybe I was a little bit jealous t’see ya moon over a guy who left ya behind!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Osamu,” you whisper, sinking onto his couch, “He did not leave me behind! I told you we split up because he went overseas for work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he nods, wiping a hand down his face, “Yer did. Ya cried all over my shoulder too, and I was wonderin’ when ya were gonna realise that I was right there!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How was I supposed to realise anything when you haven’t told me anything about your feelings? We were friends this entire time, weren’t we? You could have said something.” You snap, frustrated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How was I supposed to say anythin’?” Osamu retorts, “Yer so busy and had a million things on yer plate each time I thought about tellin’ ya. I didn’t want to bother ya with my feelings so I waited on the sidelines.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like cowardice to me,” you spit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He bellows, “I’ve always been there for ya. In fact, I’m the one who’s here for ya now! And I still need to make things clear for ya?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a whip, you spring to life, wielding the painful truth like an insult, cracking down on him with a blow. “You never said </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not a mind-reader, Osamu. You can’t treat me like a friend and expect me to magically pick up on your feelings.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Months, no, years of being passive has caused the pot to overflow in this way. Osamu is now faced with the result of his own inaction, a rapidly dwindling chance with you slipping out of his grasp. He sees you, eyes blazing, chest heaving, but he also detects the soft glimmer of hope in your eyes, like you’re wishing for this night to turn out in a different way than it started. He would rise to the challenge, confront your hopefulness head on with what he hopes to be the answer to your queries. Osamu takes the plunge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows you’re right. He hasn’t said anything, just kept quiet on the side with his feelings simmering and simmering beneath the surface, heart secretly yearning for you. Years of platonic love do not translate into romantic love, when he cares for you the same way he might care for his brother. How were you supposed to read anything else from his feelings?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath to quell his thundering heart, “I’ve been in love with ya since our first year in high school. Ya have always seen me for me, just Osamu. Not Atsumu’s brother, not one of two twins, not Miya Osamu. Just Osamu.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” you smile, “You are </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> Osamu.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reaches forward, taking your hands. The anger in you has extinguished a bit, simmered down into fumes; you gaze up at him with trepidation and love and hope and longing all in the same, it intoxicates him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want ya to be mine,” he continues, voice unwavering as he lays out his heart which is already in your hands, “I want to continue to love and support ya. I’ll cook for ya and clean the place, make sure yer have someone lookin’ out for ya until yer ready to stand on yer feet. I wanna hold ya and kiss ya. Keep ya from talkin’ about your stupid ex who couldn’t realise what was right in front of him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” you cut the tension with a quip, “That’s the most I’ve heard you speak, ever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks at you, eyes pleading for you to reciprocate, to treat his heart kindly. It’s not often that Osamu feels this overcome with nerves but today is a day of firsts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had feelings for you too,” you confess, “Since you made the onigiri for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs then, “Why didn’t we do anythin’ about it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You poke a finger into his chest, “Hey, I was your dowdy manager and you were up to the walls with fangirls. You try confessing to someone like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I would’ve accepted yer feelings anytime,” he leans forward, “Can I kiss ya?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod, gazing into his soft grey eyes. His lips meet yours with a smile, there is joy radiating off of him. He sinks into you like you’re an oasis, readily kissing you with everything he has. Lips on yours, hands cupping your cheeks, he drinks you in as much as he can. Osamu feels your hands slide up to rest on his sturdy wrists, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” he greets, a dopey smile on his face, “We just kissed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod, “We just kissed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tilts your chin up for another kiss, reclaiming your lips. You can feel the curve of his lips into a smile, reciprocating with a smile of your own. You’re both just so happy, and it feels so delightful to be held by him as you kiss him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But yer still my sugar baby, right?” Osamu asks, grinning cheekily.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You nod, poking his chest, “Samu, you know that I still need the money.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He captures your hand, your lips, your heart, “All that I have belongs to ya. Always.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Like most things in his life, Osamu works his way into relationship territory slowly (or into being your boyfriend, but the word gives him a giddy feeling still, so he doesn’t always use it), easing himself in bits and pieces. He starts small, a kiss in the morning and at night and whenever he feels like it, hugs and small touches. He’s known you for far too long and is very aware that you’re still very sensitive about the sugar baby issue to understand that plunging headfirst into everything would just scare you off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Morning, baby,” he greets you when you walk into the kitchen with sleepy eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The both of you still sleep in separate beds, since this is a month-old relationship and is as untraditional as it gets, so you stick to your boundaries, which he is too happy to follow. He receives his good morning kiss like a badge of honour and goes back to making your coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Breakfast is normal save for the fact that you barely speak. Osamu is relieved that your appetite remains the same at least. But you quickly have your breakfast and take-off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like most mornings now, you’re a little quiet the entire morning, barely squeaking out a ‘bye’ as you head in for your shift at the cafe. Osamu frowns a little, wondering whether he did anything to scare you off. But he knows you trust him enough to tell him when the time is right. But he also knows that being passive and waiting for you to land in his arms resulted in a whole lot of heartache for the both of you. As he scrubs the frying pan, he wonders- should he ask you or should he wait?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Waiting would mean you’d come to him when you were ready. But it also meant that you may not come to him at all. Asking you about it could mean that you would have to divulge whatever was bothering you before you were ready but it also meant the two of you could tackle it together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother bears the brunt of his worries as Osamu relays everything to him in a phone call.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ask her,” is Atsumu’s simple solution. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Tsumu, I can’t,” Osamu almost whines, phone on speaker mode, sitting on his counter, while he rests his head in his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Atsumu asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because, ‘Tsumu, she might not want to talk to me.” Osamu explains as though this were obvious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, ask her if she wants to talk, ‘Samu. I swear yer not cut out to be her boyfriend,” Atsumu grumbles in jest but it comes out like a knife to his heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sudden surge of insecurity wells up within him as he contemplates the possibility that you’re just not that into him, or maybe you felt pressured because he was paying off everything for you. Or worse still, maybe you were only with him for the money. He doesn’t want to imagine what would happen if he found out that the feelings you had for him were not, in fact, genuine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He combats that thought with the realisation that he knows you, that you’re too kind to hurt him like that, that you’ve known him for too long and that he’s known you, he can tell when your feelings are genuine- and they are. Still, dread fills him at the thought of asking you. The possibility that he was the root of your problems was something he just couldn’t rule out, setting him on edge the entire day. He debated calling his brother again but his twin brother was probably telepathic because he was sent another reminder to just ask you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers type and delete and type and delete several messages. No matter how hard he tries, the words don’t come. Osamu isn’t able to reach forward and pull you both out of this funk that you’re trapped in. Despite what his brother thinks, asking you is one of the hardest things to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Throughout your shift, you were filled to the brim with anxiety. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Life has been going your way lately. Too much. You’d lost your job, but ended up with your best friend who basically waved a magic wand (his credit card) and paid off your expenses. And he’d confessed to you, turning a long-held unrequited crush into a sweet love story. Osamu loves you, you feel it in everything he does. In how he kisses you like you’re the tenderest thing he can hold with his own two hands, how he makes breakfast for you every morning, how he welcomes you home at night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Guilt. It settles in your stomach like a stone. There’s a sense of guilt you feel, immensely so, at taking and taking and taking from your best friend without anything in return. And now he’s your boyfriend, who’s sweet and kind and spends every waking moment spoiling you because he wants to take care of you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You wonder what it is that you’re offering him? Debt? Your insecurities? A person he needs to baby? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Talking to him about it seemed unfathomable. He had enough to deal with, let alone more insecurities about your relationship. And you did not want to just burden him with issue after issue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when you get home, you’re surprised to see Osamu nervously pacing at the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He presents a huge bouquet of flowers to you like one might wield a sword and ushers you to a fancy homemade dinner. You feel like there’s a lump the size of a boulder lodged in your throat. Walking to the dinner table is excruciatingly awkward because the air between the two of you is murky and filled with unresolved tension. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dinner goes smoothly for all of five minutes until your hand knocks the wine glass over and the dark red liquid spills on Osamu’s grey t-shirt. Like the spilling of the wine, your dam breaks and you burst into sobs. A horror of a work week and a horror in your personal life feels like a tidal wave has been let loose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu hurries to your side in an instant, wrapping his arm around you but cursing when he sees the dark red stain spread to your light coloured blouse. He pulls away, which causes you to turn your heartbroken eyes, glassy with tears, to him, heart torn in half when he pulled away. You look at the space he created between the two of you like it physically hurt you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No- shit,” he curses, “I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” you blubber, “I wish I could just be like every other girlfriend and appreciate that you did this for me but I spilt wine on you and now I ruined the dinner with my crying.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y/N,” he tries but you don’t let him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done so much for me- you even bought me those beautiful roses. And what have I done? Ruined your t-shirt. I’m good for nothing,” you wail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that,” Osamu warns, “Ya know that’s not true.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Osamu,” you continue wailing, “I’m literally saddled with debt. I don’t even have a proper job! And now we’re dating, I feel so bad because you’re already doing so much for me and now you’re showering me with love and affection.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many times have I told ya I do these things because I want to?” He questions, retrieving a damp cloth to delay what damage he can from the wine stains on your clothes. His rough hands grip your side as he works diligently to clean up the stain. You watch him through watery eyes, as he gently cleans you up before rising so he can pull you against him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was worried because I thought you hated me or somethin’,” he whispers into your hair, “That maybe ya weren’t that into me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would you think that?” You ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was worried ya were only with me because ya felt obligated to. Y’know since I’m payin’ for yer things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Osamu,” you sigh, smacking your forehead, “We wouldn’t be in this mess if we just talked.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can talk now?” He offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It may have been entirely retroactive, but he was sincere. Osamu wanted to clear the air and so you let him. The two of you discuss everything over dinner. The both of your insecurities, your fears for the relationship, for each other. You let Osamu rub slow circles in your upturned palm as you recount how guilty you feel for taking from him without giving anything in return. And you let him kiss you slowly after dinner, trying to assure you that your company, your presence was all he needed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That it was the love that you gave him that was enough, it was more than anything he could have bought or built or dreamt up because it was real and it was from you. Osamu, who isn’t a man of many words, tries to draw you as close as he can to him, trying to assure you that being together, being with him meant he would take care of you, not as an obligation or a chore but because he wanted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in turn, you gaze into his eyes and reassure him that your feelings are unwavering. You were with him because there was nowhere else you wanted to be. He smiles in your hair as you stroke his arm and whisper sweet words of love to him, indulging him and warming his heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer gotta promise,” he instructs softly, thumbs running across your cheeks, “That if yer feeling insecure, yer talk to me. Let me help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And the same goes for you, mister,” you poke his rather firm chest, “I don’t want to hear anything about me not loving you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not very good at this,” he admits, “I feel like I’m just wanderin’ around in the dark.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not very good at what?” You query, watching his silver eyes brim with insecurity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Being a boyfriend. Being yer boyfriend.” He doesn’t meet your eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well you are,” you assure him, “No one else makes me feel the way that you do. You care for me and spoil me and love me and make me feel like I’m special.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya are,” he replies without missing a beat. “I guess sometimes, I just wanted to hear that I was makin’ ya happy. Because yer always so independent and doing yer own thing, and I thought you just wouldn’t have time for me. It’s why I offered to be yer, um,” he blushes hard, “yer sugar daddy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just because I’m independent, doesn’t mean I never had time for you. I have always loved you, as a friend and now as more. Nothing about that will change.” You press a kiss to his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s an honour to open up my life to you,” you say, “And I’m so happy that whatever it is, we’re tackling it together.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise to be there for ya,” he declares, pinching your nose, “Sugar b-baby or not, I’ll always want to spoil ya.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I may or may not always want to be spoiled,” you sigh dramatically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Looping your arms around his neck, you kiss him once more, pulling back to gaze into the eyes of the man you’ve loved for years now- kind, strong, dependable and sweet Osamu. His heart has always been a size too big, beneath his boyish demeanor and vociferous appetite and stoic appearance, he was a giver. And maybe you were a bit too much of a taker for now, but there would be a time for you to give to him and for him to take from you and push and pull and up and down and all of that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But for now, you allow your love for him to take over you in this moment, to seep from every pore as you touch him, resting your head in his chest, his hand stroking your back. Osamu and you may not have the greatest love story but it is mighty in that it is in your own, fantastically yours in its ups and its downs and its Osamu-like simplicity. Contentment is worth so much more than whatever he can buy you because contentment finds you alone with him, never mind the rest of the world. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>find me @ forgetou on tumblr.. i hope u enjoyed &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>tumblr plug - forgetou. i hope u enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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